


Beauty in Blood

by princesitka



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920's, F/M, Flapper Girls, Illegal Alcohol Consumption, M/M, Mob Bosses, Mob Violence, Reincarnation, Speak Easys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1923891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesitka/pseuds/princesitka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poor and penniless, Eren Jaeger makes his living off of making and selling illegal liquor during Prohibition. But sometimes, he doesn't have the money to pay off his debts, and sometimes he has to pay for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty in Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, another thing that I wrote that I wrote before updating other things! Surprise, surprise.
> 
> But really, I've been meaning to write this for awhile now, and this is also dedicated to my lovely friend Jazz, to whom this whole mob boss reincarnation thing comes from. So if you're reading this Jazzy, I love you lots and I hope this does your idea justice!

There is beauty in battle.

In gore.

In blood.

The visage shines like crystal envy and the entrails like gold, blood flowing and shining a dull copper as it sloshes from side to side in the expensive cups of important men.

Yes, there is beauty here, but the war that rages eternal and hidden is put at the back of the minds of all present as they dance, and smoke, and drink. Here policemen talk idly with murderers and mafia bosses, bootleggers and known adulterous politicians. 

There is beauty in gore.

Hands that now hold cigars and glasses of rum were once stained crimson with the blood of the innocent, the blood of the guilty. 

The blood of the competition.

But blood is also beautiful, in a way that it binds everyone together, as humans. God has no prejudice when he fills us up with the same salty, crimson liquid. 

And it seems the bartender here is playing God when he fills glass after glass with the same stuff over and over again. Not blood.

Alcohol.

Eren tips his own glass to his lips, letting the rum wash over his tongue as he watches girls in glittering dresses and men in emaculate suits dance and drink, whatever burdens they had been carrying left at the door as they move with care free and happy idleness.

He envies them, and they taunt him. He silently wonders how much those suits must cost. More than twenty dollars, surely.

He'd never seen a whole twenty dollars all together in his life. 

He watches as his best pal Mikasa twirls from the mix of people, drink in one hand and cigarette in the other, and raises her eyebrow at him, her lips curling up in a smirk as she seductively wiggles her shoulder at him.

'Drunk' he think with a grin as he hides behind his glass. Mikasa advances on him, leaning down to rest an elbow on the bar next to him as she sips at her cigarette.

"What's it gonna take to have you dance with little ol' me? Hmm, Eren?" She croons as she sets her drink down in favor of tickling under his chin. Eren swats her hand away and stands up, knocking the rest of his drink back.

"I'm goin' outside to catch some air, go have a dance with Jean, he's been eyein' you all night." Eren says, watching Mikasa's face fall as she tosses a glance over her shoulder to where Jean has been staring at her for the past hour. Eren usually wouldn't suggest anything involving Jean and Mikasa in the same radius, but he hates dancing, and especially around a bunch of drunks. 

"Fine." Mikasa says snarkily, throwing back the rest of her rum and slamming the glass down on the oak bar. "But you owe me a dance when you get back in." 

Eren nods but begins formulating his plan to get out of that later anyway, weaving his way through the swaying bodies to the heavy metal door that leads to the alley. 

With a grunt he pushes it open, stepping out into the chilly night air and letting it swing closed with a loud 'bang'. The only light in the alley now comes from the street lamp at the end of it, but Eren doesn't really mind. He's used to the dark, and pulls a crumpled cigarette and nearly empty match book out of his pocket anyway. He'd rather smoke outside than with so many other people around him, it's more relaxing that way.

He's just dragging his match across the top of the book when the door opens again, blinding Eren with the light he's since grown accustomed to not having. The door slams closed again and a man takes a place beside him on the wall, leaning back and pulling a silver cigarette case out of his pocket. 

"Mind if I light up with ya?" He asks dryly, and Eren nods, lighting his own cigarette first before holding the match to the man's. Eren notes that he's a couple inches shorter than he is, but he can't see much of the man's appearance other than that, because he wears a black fedora tipped over his face.

Eren leans back against the wall a few feet away from this new stranger, studying what he can of him while he breathes in lung fulls of black smoke. 

"So why're you smoking out here?" Eren finally asks, his need to be nosy greater than his need to be polite. 

The man turns to him and shrugs. "I could ask you the same thing, pretty boy." 

Eren feels himself tense at the nickname, not really knowing how to react. "Yeah."

After a moment of blowing smoke rings the man crushes his cigarette on the brick wall he'd been leaning against, and Eren silently mourns the fact that he probably would have gotten another good couple of minutes out of it. 

"Well, see ya around, I guess. Brat." The man says, brushing the invisable dust off his slacks and turning back towards the door.

Eren bristles. "Hey, wise guy, I'm not a brat, I'm twenty-two!"

The man casts a glance over his shoulder and Eren can see the glint of pearly white teeth in the glowing light of the street lamp. 

"Alright, I'll go back to callin' ya pretty boy, then. See ya around, pretty boy."

And then he's gone.

Eren rolls his cigarette inbetween his finger tips, thinking about how he'd love to punch the snot out of that midget, but then again, if that man was attending this particular speak easy, he must be someone with a particularly high status. And with Eren's luck, he'd probably be punching a U.S. Martial or something.

Eren's still contemplating when two men turn from the sidewalk and into the alley, both being so completely large that they fill up the whole space from wall to wall. 

"Hey, Jaeger boy." The larger, more muscular man, which Eren now recognizes as his old friend Reiner Braun, says. "It's been awhile, eh? But I think you know why we're here."

It's true, Reiner used to be Eren's friend, but that was before he'd started working for Annie Leonhardt, a notorious mob boss whom Eren had known from awhile back as well. 

"Look, Reiner," Eren starts, looking from Reiner to the other man, Bertolt, a long time associate of Annie's. "I told you guys I'd pay ya back the money, and I'm gonna. I just need a little more time. Tell Annie I need a little more time, she'll understand."

Reiner cracks his knuckles, and Eren knows that's not a good sign. "I wanna be understanding of your current situation, I really do. But Annie, on the other hand, is done bein' understanding. Time's up, Jaeger boy. You got our money, or not?"

Eren swallows thickly and feels the thread bare emptiness of his pockets rubbing against his thighs. 

"No."

Then suddenly, pain.

It explodes like fireworks all through Eren's body as Bertolt holds him and Reiner lays his fists into his stomach, burning red hot like the time he'd touched the kettle of hot water his Mama had been boiling on the coal stove.

After awhile, Eren stops feeling it, his head swimming in a sea of fleeting blackness as darkness pours spots into his vision. 

But through the water that threatens to swallow up his senses, he hears a voice, sharp and clear and cutting through the liquid night.

"Drop the kid."

He feels a hand curl into the front of his shirt, and suddenly Reiner's breath is on his cheek. 

"And why exactly should I, tough guy?"

Suddenly, Eren sees. 

He sees the world nearly sideways, but sideways is enough because there infront of him is none other than the short man who had insulted him earlier, his fedora abandoned in one hand and a switchblade occupying the other. 

"I don't believe you or your boss would wanna make enemies with me. Drop the kid."

Eren hears Reiner hiss in what he guesses is Bertolt's direction. "Holy shit, it's Rivaille. Let's bolt." 

And just like that, he's lying against rain slicked pavement with more pain shooting through him than he's ever felt in his life, and the liquid darkness is threatening to over take him again.

But then again, there's that voice, as sharp as the switchblade it's owner had had in his hand just a second ago. But this time it carries something else with it, something that sounds like what Eren's feeling.

Pain.

"Hey, pretty boy, you alright? Oh God, you're fuckin' bleeding. I'm takin' you back to my place so we can get you patched up." 

Eren is weightless again, flying high in this man's, Rivaille's, arms. His eyelids flutter shut, and he thinks, 'I'll just go to sleep, just for a moment.' before succumbing to the blackness. 

 

Eren doesn't resurface again until he's in a car, and the first thing he notices is that he's clinging to someone for dear life, his bloody fingers rumpling the pristine white fabric of the shirt against which his cheek is currently pressed. He raises his head and slowly blinks upwards, registering the face of his savior.

"Corporal." The whisper barely leaves his lips before his eyes are closing again, and he briefly hears shouts before he goes back under. 

The blood splotches on his Corporal's shirt look nice there, Eren thinks.

There is beauty in blood.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be continued.


End file.
